


In the Snow

by IncorrectWifi



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncorrectWifi/pseuds/IncorrectWifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss had read articles that mentioned trauma and grief upon discovering the death of a mother or a father. She knew that she was supposed to feel something, that she was expected to feel something.</p><p>Yang would’ve given anything for her sister’s speed right now. Anything.</p><p>Blake, and perhaps twenty or thirty cat Faunus just like her, sat and stood in the tiny room and waited for their moment to come.<br/>---<br/>Three short pieces, written waaaay before seeing volume 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weiss

Weiss sat in the empty room and tried to feel something for the corpse on the table. She had seen the vacant eyes of children whose parents had died. She'd read articles that mentioned trauma and grief upon discovering the death of a mother or a father. She knew that she was supposed to feel something, that she was _expected_ to feel something. That had been the only reason the guards had let her into the office in the first place.

She hadn't missed their looks of pity as they let her in. She could hear their murmurings outside the doors, not quite loud enough to make out what they were saying, but she understood the tone well enough to guess.

  
"That poor child, can you even imagine?"

"She must be going through so much..."

"She has to be. You know, one of my friends knew someone whose parents passed away, and they told me that they had been just a shell of what they had once been. Never laughed or smiled anymore..."

"Jeez, if someone _normal_ stopped smiling because of something like this, I'd hate to see what happens to _her_.."

"Yeah, you're telling me. Her and her sister, both...I was kind of hoping I'd get to see some  _emotion_ from one of them, but nope. Cold-hearted little bitches, the two of them..."

Weiss wasn't angry. It was something she would expect from two gossiping guards. Besides, they were right. She wasn't a normal child. She never had been.

While others her age had been playing in the sun and climbing trees, Weiss had been told to stay indoors and focus on her studies. While others made friends and told jokes, Weiss was learning how to give a speech and how to speak to nobles properly.

Sometimes Weiss wished for the ability to connect with someone her age. Sometimes, she would glance at the happy families playing in the park outside her window, and Weiss would wish she were down there with them. Hopscotch had always looked, well, _fun._

But Weiss wouldn't have traded her childhood for anything.

Never.

Thanks to her parents' decisions, she alaws knew exactly what was expected of her. She knew exactly what to expect for the rest of her life. She knew exactly how to handle any previously experienced problems and how to adapt to new ones. She was ready for everything and anything that would come with her future job of owner and CEO of the Schnee Dust Company. Weiss was prepared. 

  
Yet, as she stared at her father's corpse lying on the pristine metal table, Weiss felt a certain amount of uncertainty well up within her. Her father had assured her, whenever they met, that the guards were a necessary precaution against people who might want them killed. They were powerful after all. Other, _lesser,_ individuals would want that power. He had told her not to be afraid of that. He had told her that he would be there to help her through her first few years of managing his company, at least. He had let her know that he would always be a resource for her in his retirement.

  
She had not expected to be called from her room late last night as she was examining the end of the year's charts and figures. She had not expected to be greeted by a slightly shaken and somewhat...emotional mother waiting for her. She had not expected her father to die.

  
It had been a quick death. She was told so anyway. Weiss had no interest in the medical field. She didn't care about what different wounds looked like and which ones caused more pain. She wouldn't need to know such information as the owner and manager of her family's business.

  
The wound, however, did look quick. Almost like an afterthought. Whoever killed her father had wasted no time in slitting his throat. It was clean and would be easy to disguise for the funeral next weekend. She could picture it now. Her father lying in an black ivory box, garnished with a few gold embellishments and the company logo on the end. His eyes would be shut, to keep their startling blue from unnerving the guests. His mouth would be its usual thin line, worn into a constant expression of disapproval and disappointment.

 

Weiss sighed and looked out the window. It was no good. She was no good. Her father's death, though a surprise, just wouldn't affect her outside of it being a minor inconvenience. She would have to fake it during the funeral. She would have to fake it for the press. After all, any press was good press. Weiss had learned that.

  
She glanced at her father's body again. It wasn't so unusual for it to be so still. She could almost imagine that he was just laying down for some sort of medical examination, if it hadn't been for the fact that he only had a white sheet covering his torso and beneath. She had never seen her father out of clothes before, or even out of formal attire. 

  
Weiss sighed again, stood, and left the room. The heavy oak doors of his office slammed shut. Her father was left alone for the coroner. The only thing left of whom he had once been was the cold silence she left behind oak doors.


	2. Yang (And Ruby)

“Ruby! Wait up!” Yang giggled, racing the forest beside their house. Her sister had activated her semblance and was now a red blur ahead of her, making it a difficult race to win.

“I'm not slowing down for slowpokes like you, you big-uh-Slowpoke!”

Yang shook her head as Ruby burst into giggles and sped away. Out of all the semblances in the world for Ruby to get, she had to get the one that caused the most trouble around the house. She stole all the cookies when their father wasn't looking, she caused whirlwinds in their bedroom and then didn't clean up after it, and now she was taking every opportunity she had to one-up Yang just because she could. This meant constant challenges to tag, hide and go seek, bash the Beowulf, and of course racing. Yang never backed down from a challenge, though she was beginning to wish she would.

Yang just wished her semblance would kick in already. It wasn't fair that Ruby got hers first. It wasn't fair that she had signed up for every semblance-discovery class at Beacon and was still unable to perform it.

She could use her aura, she _was_ fourteen after all, she wasn't _that_ stupid. She could heal little cuts and bruises, and she could sort of sense it when someone was hiding in the room, sometimes. She just wanted to use her semblance already.

It was probably going to be super awesome and _way_ cooler than Ruby’s. It would probably be something really rare and special, like _teleportation_ , or maybe _telekinesis,_ or even, uh, _telephonesism._ Okay that last one was made up, but all the cool semblances started with _tele-._

Yang couldn't hear Ruby anymore, and she would be a little worried if she didn't know her sister. She was probably playing hide and go seek now. Yang just had to wait until Ruby giggled or sneezed or did something else to give herself away. Ruby always did something that gave her away.

So Yang waited, and Yang listened.

30 seconds passed and nothing.

Ruby was getting good.

She must’ve finally started listening to Yang’s stories of huntresses who won the battle by ambushing their prey. Yang could get Ruby to do anything as long as she thought that a huntress or a huntsman did it first.

One time she got her little sister to do the dishes for her after a particularly thrilling tale of how a huntsman had destroyed an army of Nevermores by uncovering a strange, circular, _plate-like,_ talisman, and removing all the rust  before using it to shoot a soap bubble-ray that killed every last Grimm. Yang’s dad had difficulty scolding her amidst his own unbearable laughter. Good times.

A minute passed and Yang began to grow worried. She knew that there were no creatures of Grimm within her dad’s boundaries, and Ruby, she knew, would never cross them without him anyway. Besides, Yang was far more likely to break her dad’s rules than Ruby ever would be.

Still, Ruby couldn't stand being quiet for so long. She was twelve years old, hyper, and still struggling to get over the excitement of being able to run fast enough to create an _actual_ tornado. But, if Yang knew one thing in the world, she knew her sister. Something was wrong.

“Ruby!” Yang yelled, “Ruby! Game’s over! I'm done!”

She waited. One, two, three seconds.

No response.

Yang started running.

“Ruby! Ruby come out!”

Trees began to blur by her as she yelled and ran faster and faster. The chill of late fall bit at her fingers and Yang didn't care.

“Ruby!!”

She reached the boundary line, marked by a bit of bright orange plastic tied to a line of trees. Yang stopped running. Her dad had told them both stories of Grimm. Yang had studied them in class and been warned day after day of the dangers of attracting such evil beings’ attention. She had watched the shaky Scroll footage of monsters tearing through humans like they were made of cardboard. Ruby though, she hadn't. Ruby had only heard stories of brave heroes who killed and defeated monsters. Ruby had only heard of the glory and the celebrations and epic battles. Yang had told her most of them. Ruby had listened to all of them.

And now, a scrap of red fabric was flashing around, caught on a tree branch about thirty yards past the boundary line.

 

Yang should get help.

Yang should help.

Yang should yell for her sister.

Yang should yell for her dad.

Yang should not, should _never_ , not in a million years think that she could save her sister on her own.

Yang should know that this would not end well.

Yang crossed the boundary line and raced in the direction of her sister’s tattered red cloth.

 

“RUUUUUBYYYYY!!!!!”

Yang ran and shouted and searched for more red. She ran and shouted and listened for her sister. There. Another piece of cloak to her right. Yang turned sharply, almost losing her footing on the loose leaves beneath her feet.

“RUUUBY!!!!”

“Yang!”

Yang froze and listened.

“Yaaaaaang!!! Heeellp!”

 

Straight ahead. Yang was blind with sudden adrenaline and no longer cared that it was getting darker or that she could no longer feel her fingertips. Ruby needed her. Ruby was in trouble. Yang needed to get there fast.

“Yang!!! Yaaaaanng!!”

Yang would give anything for her sister’s speed right now. Anything.

**“Yang!!”**

She was closer. Yang could hear something besides her sister’s screams, something low, like the fancy engines in the planes their dad had taken them to see. Yang didn't want to think about it.

**“Yaaaaanggggg!!! Yaaang! It's-It’s a-”**

Silence. Her sister was silent. Yang caught a flash of scarlet between the branches. Ruby.

She barreled into the clearing. A familiar clearing, somewhere she had been before.

Of course. Where else would Ruby go?

It was a cliff side, and on the edge lay a stone gravestone, the symbol of Summer Rose etched into it. Their mother's grave, or rather, _Ruby's_ mother's grave.

Yang didn't need to think about that now, she didn't even care. Not when she could see a red cloak collapsed against the headstone. Not when that red cloak wasn't moving. Not when a hulkish, black, snarling, _monster,_ had a paw raised, ready to strike.

“RUBY!” Yang shrieked, and the _thing_ , the beast, it looked up.

Yang had seen drawings. She'd heard stories. She'd watched footage. She'd lain in bed and imagined gnarled black fur and skeleton faces. She had seen pictures of the glowing eyes and those sharp teeth. She had done projects on the terrible grimm creatures. Yet somehow, as one stared right into her eyes, into her _soul,_ she finally realized what these beasts really were. 

This was _death_.

The thing sniffed around the air and opened its jaws, tasting for Ruby’s soul, measuring the worth of her life, and Yang was angry.

This thing, this _Ursa_ , thought that it could just waltz in and hurt Yang’s sister??? It thought that it could destroy something so precious and get away with it???

 

Not while Yang was here. Not _ever_.

 

Yang screamed and suddenly her blood was fire. Suddenly the wind wasn't so cold and the blood red eyes of this creature were gray beside her rage. She was going to _burn_ this creature to the ground. She was going to burn it all.

Yang roared like the bonfire in her veins and she leapt at the Ursa, throwing punch after punch into its exposed stomach, throwing every bit of her fury into each slam of her fists. She heard her bones crack and strain. She felt pain shoot up her arms. The Ursa didn't even flinch. Instead, it paused and looked down at her. Its mouth was cracked. It's teeth were twisted, bone white. It was smiling. It looked at Yang the way that she had looked at Ruby the first time her sister had challenged her to a race.

 _Pathetic_.

Yang faltered.

The beast struck.

Yang flew back against a tree trunk and her neck snapped back. Literal stars danced before her eyes. Yang didn't think her aura would be able to heal her this time.

The Ursa was barking, it was laughing at her, and once again, Yang felt heat rush into her and she stood, not caring that the ground was tilting and that her vision blurred. She didn't need to see to punch.

The Ursa stalked towards Yang. In slow motion, she saw its heavy paw pull back for another strike. Yang raised her hand, in a hopeless attempt to stop the blow. The force of its paw slammed into her palm. Her fingers shook and the fire blazed. For a few strange moments, nothing happened. Yang risked a small glance at the bear-like monster. The massive paw of the enormous Grimm was stopped, and just like that both she and the Ursa were very confused.

Unlike the beast, Yang had no time for confusion.

Once again, she swung a fist into the monster, hitting its muscled ribs. This time, _it_ went flying. It landed just at the cliff’s edge, and Yang grinned a snarled grin as the role between predator and prey switched.

She stalked over to its side and watched as it struggled to pick itself up.

She smiled, because this soulless evil would never know fire in its veins. 

She kicked it over the edge and watched as it hit the rocks below and dissolved into ash.

As the last bits of decaying grimm dissipated, Yang blinked back into reality, and the fire ceased its burning.

“Ruby,” she remembered.

She spun, and there was her sister, kneeling by Summer’s headstone, staring. Her hood was back. Her eyes and her mouth were both open in shock.

"Ruby!" Yang shouted, rushing to her side, "Are you okay? How-"

"Ahem," said her dad.

He stood, arms crossed at the edge of the woods, his eyes holding a look that could kill an Ursa in seconds.

Crap.


	3. Blake

Blake shuffled in her seat, unable to sit still. She clenched the book in her hand like a lifeline, but didn’t open it. She couldn’t afford to be distracted, not now. She, and perhaps twenty or thirty others, cat Faunus like her, sat or stood in the tiny room and waited for their moment to come.

Many people in the room were like Blake, nervous and twitchy, ready to run in a moments notice. Some were more stoic. Leaning against the wall on her left was what appeared to be a lynx Faunus, judging by his short, stocky, stature, and even shorter bobtail.

To her left sat a thin boy who kept taking off his glasses and polishing them and putting them back on, only to take them off again just a few seconds later. His cat features weren’t obvious, but Blake was betting he had claws and maybe night vision. Most cat Faunus had night vision.

Blake spotted a few others with cat ears, some rounded like a panther’s or a lion’s, some were sharper, like her own, but most were orange or white instead of black. She could see two other members in the room with black ears that were almost identical to hers. One was standing towards the center of the room, her eyes screwed shut and looking like she was about fall over, and the other was sitting on the floor, back against the wall and looking like he was about to fall asleep. Both appeared to be younger than her by a few years. The boy looked like he was twelve and sported a nasty scar along his left cheekbone.

Blake noticed similar injuries on almost every Faunus. Some of the members' tails didn’t move as easily as others, a result of being broken too many times in the past. Most of the members had scars stretched around their wrists, a result of being handcuffed and then yanked on by cruel police officers.

One Faunus girl, who appeared to have the misfortune of having both ears _and_ a tail, had a thick white scar encircling her neck.

_Like a collar._

Blake shivered.

She had her scars as well, the ones surrounding her own wrists being the most obvious, but glancing around the room at all of the pain and misery etched into each person’s skin, Blake suddenly felt very, very, lucky to only have easily hidden ears.

The girl with the scar around her neck and the man with the lynx tail simultaneously stiffened and stared at the closed door across the room from Blake. A few others noticed their staring and looked at the door, but nothing moved and they all resumed their uncomfortable fidgeting.

A small groan in the floorboards outside the door caught Blake’s attention, as well as a few others. Someone was in the hallway. A louder creak, and almost every person in the room was staring at the door. A few, like the boy that kept polishing his glasses, and an older woman with whiskers who sat, head bowed, in the center of the room, were still oblivious. The boy seemed too absorbed in his miniature panic attack to notice anything else, and the old woman looked like she might have fallen asleep.

They all watched as the door opened silently, and a man in a black coat and a bone white mask stepped into the room, a bushy grey tail of a wolf swishing silently with his steps. A girl with antlers and no mask walked behind him. She looked to be a little older than Blake and appeared just as nervous. She carried a clipboard and a pen. The wolf Faunus stopped walking, and the antler girl squeaked, almost colliding with him before following suit a few steps back.

The entire room was now watching the man. A few of them began to murmur at the sight of his mask. Its red designs spoke of years of human slaughter and millions upon millions of deaths. The thick feeling of the room heightened, increased tenfold. The old woman awoke and upon looking at his terrible, terrible, mask, hissed. She stood immediately, seemingly expecting a fight from the Faunus.

The man didn’t make any sign of noticing her. He nodded his head at the antler girl behind him, and she quickly scrawled something down on her clipboard. Then he spoke.

“Brothers and Sisters of the White Fang,” he started. The room relaxed a little. He was with the White Fang. Despite his mask and what it symbolized, those words were comfort to all Faunus. No member of the White Fang would hurt a Faunus. He continued, and although he didn’t yell, his voice held the commanding tone of someone who had lost many friends, seen many deaths, and was prepared to see more.

“You have all come here for peace, equality and justice. Most of you were part of the old White Fang. You were part of the White Fang that didn’t want to spread violence, the White Fang that wanted to prove itself as peaceful protest group, the White Fang that had good intentions, but little results.”

The room bristled. For Blake, who had been a part of “the old White Fang” since she could remember being able to walk, his speech sounded like he was vowing a war against the only family she could remember. She knew that the same would be true for anyone else in the room who had been involved in any way. The White Fang was safety. The White Fang was a home when your neighborhood decided they didn't like anyone with more than four limbs or one set of ears.

“I know most of you are protective of that group and its ways, and that some of you have even thrown their lives into it. Believe me when I say that I understand that level of devotion. I have experienced it before, and I am about to experience it again. The old White Fang, although honorable, was not enough to make humans see us as equals. It wasn’t enough to keep those scars off your skin and those hateful looks from your backs. It wasn’t enough to save your families from discrimination, and it wasn’t enough to-" He bit off his next word. Though, the mask hid his face, grief was etched into the sudden sag in his shoulders. He looked to the floorboards for a moment, then straightened his spine. "It wasn't enough save my own children’s lives.”

The room had become tense again. Those with obvious scars seemed to be shaking with fury, and the boy with the glasses, although his skin was clear of wounds, had his fists clenched on his knees, and his jaw was clenched shut. It could've been the reflection of his glasses, but his eyes seemed to be watery.

Yet, this man was speaking as if the old White Fang had never had a victory. The old White Fang had been the one that secured work and labor equality for the Faunus. The old White Fang had been the one that set up medical centers for Faunus that couldn’t be treated at public hospitals and emergency centers. The old White Fang had done its part. It was just the humans, the stubborn, bigoted humans…

Now Blake was angry.

“I am here to tell you all, that the White Fang’s work is not done. The White Fang is ready to be taken seriously. We’re ready to make a change, to start a movement that will make this world equal. We’re ready to make a difference that will last longer and ensure that the childhoods of our children are not filled with scars. We’re ready for a rebellion.”

Blake stood, along with most of the room. This man was right. The old White Fang, it was home, it was comfort, but it was slow. Too slow. It couldn’t be the change that the Faunus needed. All Faunus needed to be heard.

“Members of the White Fang, if they wish to join, will have to be able bodied and be ready to defend themselves against humans. We will not accept those that are too weak to help us. We cannot take the risk of losing more Faunus lives than necessary. We cannot lose more than what we have already lost. We _will_ make a difference, and we _will_ make it as one. We are Faunus! We will have our Victory!”

  
The room was cheering. Blake was cheering. The qualms of the man’s mask had disappeared. The White Fang, the _better_ White Fang, needed them. It needed them all.


End file.
